The Legend of The Foolkiller!
by EddieHollister
Summary: RationalFic. Marvel has had 4 vigilantes using the name of The Foolkiller. Who were they? What was their common goal, their inspirations? Just how far BACK does their legacy go, and will it carry on into the 21st Century? For fans of The Punisher, the Goddamn Batman, Deadpool, and heck, even the Jigsaw Killer and Django, I offer a new series of the Foolkillers Past... and Future?
1. Chapter 1

"I want my bed time story," Melanie shouted to her older brother.

"Very well, go brush your teeth, I'll get the book we're working on. Brush ALL your teeth, now."

"Only if YOU do ALL the VOICES this time, she shouted as she ran from the living room to the upstairs bedroom.

"You're a good older brother, to look after her like that," their mother said as she looked up from her crochet work.

"I don't mind it," Terry said. "it's important to do what matters most for family, that's what you and Dad taught us both. Even family that we adopt." With a serious and determined look, Terry climbed the stairs, to do what he could for the closest to a blood sibling he would ever have.

Melanie was sitting on the edge of her bed, and Terry went to the rocking chair that was just a bit too big for his 5 year old sister, and a bit too small for him at 9. "The Enchanted Island of Yew by L. Frank Baum," he said with mock seriousness. "Chapter six..."

The Fool-Killer

The room was round, with a dome at the top. The bare walls were of gray stone, with square, open windows set full twenty feet from the floor. Rough gray stone also composed the floor, and in the center of the room stood one great rock with a seat hollowed in its middle. This was the throne, and round about it stood a swarm of men and women dressed in rich satins, velvets and brocades, brilliantly ornamented with gold and precious stones. The men were of many shapes and sizes-giants and dwarfs being among them. The women all seemed young and beautiful.

Prince Marvel cast but a passing glance at this assemblage, for his eye quickly sought the rude throne on which was seated King Terribus.

The personal appearance of this monster was doubtless the most hideous known in that age of the world. His head was large and shaped like an egg; it was bright scarlet in color and no hair whatever grew upon it. It had three eyes-one in the center of his face, one on the top of his head and one in the back. Thus he was always able to see in every direction at the same time. His nose was shaped like an elephant's trunk, and swayed constantly from side to side. His mouth was very wide and had no lips at all, two rows of sharp and white teeth being always plainly visible beneath the swaying nose.

King Terribus, although surrounded by so splendid a court, wore a simple robe of gray cloth, with no ornament or other finery, and his strange and fearful appearance was strongly contrasted with the glittering raiment of his courtiers and the beauty of his ladies in waiting.

When Prince Marvel, with Nerle marching close behind, entered the great room, Terribus looked at him sharply a moment, and then bowed. And when he bowed the eye upon the top of his head also looked sharply at the intruders.

Then the king spoke, his voice sounding so sweet and agreeable that it almost shocked Nerle, who had expected to hear a roar like that from a wild beast.

"Why are you here?" asked Terribus.

"Partly by chance and partly from curiosity," answered Prince Marvel. "No one in this island, except your own people, had ever seen the king of Spor; so, finding myself in your country, I decided to come here and have a look at you."

The faces of the people who stood about the throne wore frightened looks at the unheard of boldness of this speech to their terrible monarch. But the king merely nodded and inquired:

"Since you have seen me, what do you think of me?"

"I am sorry you asked that question," returned the prince; "for I must confess you are a very frightful-looking creature, and not at all agreeable to gaze upon."

"Ha! you are honest, as well as frank," exclaimed the king. "But that is the reason I do not leave my kingdom, as you will readily understand. And that is the reason I never permit strangers to come here, under penalty of death. So long as no one knows the King of Spor is a monster people will not gossip about my looks, and I am very sensitive regarding my personal appearance. You will perhaps understand that if I could have chosen I should have been born beautiful instead of ugly."

"I certainly understand that. And permit me to say I wish you were beautiful. I shall probably dream of you for many nights," added the prince.

"Not for many," said King Terribus, quietly. "By coming here you have chosen death, and the dead do not dream."

"Why should I die?" inquired Prince Marvel, curiously.

"Because you have seen me. Should I allow you to go away you would tell the world about my ugly face. I do not like to kill you, believe me; but you must pay the penalty of your rashness-you and the man behind you."

Nerle smiled at this; but whether from pride at being called a man or in pleasurable anticipation of the sufferings to come I leave you to guess.

"Will you allow me to object to being killed?" asked the prince.

"Certainly," answered the king, courteously. "I expect you to object. It is natural. But it will do you no good."

Then Terribus turned to an attendant and commanded:

"Send hither the Fool-Killer."

At this Prince Marvel laughed outright.

"The Fool-Killer!" he cried; "surely your Majesty does me little credit. Am I, then, a fool?"

"You entered my kingdom uninvited," retorted the king, "and you tell me to my face I am ugly. Moreover, you laugh when I condemn you to death. From this I conclude the Fool-Killer is the proper one to execute you. Behold!"

Marvel turned quickly, to find a tall, stalwart man standing behind him. His features were strong but very grave, and the prince caught a look of compassion in his eye as their gaze met. His skin was fair and without blemish, a robe of silver cloth fell from his shoulders, and in his right hand he bore a gleaming sword.

"Well met!" cried Marvel, heartily, as he bowed to the Fool-Killer. "I have often heard your name mentioned, but 'tis said in the world that you are a laggard in your duty."

"Had I my way," answered the Fool-Killer, "my blade would always drip. It is my master, yonder, who thwarts my duty." And he nodded toward King Terribus.

"Then you should exercise your right on him, and cleave the ugly head from his shoulders," declared the prince.

"Nay, unless I interfered with the Fool-Killer," said the king, "I should soon have no subjects left to rule; for at one time or another they all deserve the blade."

"Why, that may be true enough," replied Prince Marvel. "But I think, under such circumstances, your Fool-Killer is a needless servant. So I will rid you of him in a few moments."

With that he whipped out his sword and stood calmly confronting the Fool-Killer, whose grave face never changed in expression as he advanced menacingly upon his intended victim. The blades clashed together, and that of the Fool-Killer broke short off at the hilt. He took a step backward, stumbled and fell prone upon the rocky floor, while Prince Marvel sprang forward and pressed the point of his sword against his opponent's breast.

"Hold!" cried the king, starting to his feet. "Would you slay my Fool-Killer? Think of the harm you would do the world!"

"But he is laggard and unfaithful to his calling!" answered the prince, sternly.

"Nevertheless, if he remove but one fool a year he is a benefit to mankind," declared the king. "Release him, I pray you!"

Then the victor withdrew his sword and stood aside, while the Fool-Killer slowly got upon his feet and bowed humbly before the king.

"Go!" shouted Terribus, his eye flashing angrily. "You have humiliated me before my enemy. As an atonement see that you kill me a fool a day for sixty days."

Hearing this command, many of the people about the throne began to tremble; but the king paid no attention to their fears, and the Fool-Killer bowed again before his master and withdrew from the chamber.

"The end, of Chapter six," Terry said.

"There's no such thing as a real Fool-Killer is there," she asked, wide eyed. "The kids at school have called me a fool and other things."

"Be sure to point them out to me some time," Terry said with a slight smile. "I'll point out the mistakes they have made far worse than any you ever made."

"Like what?" she asked with her head cocked to one side.

"Saying bad things that weren't true about my sister for starters," he said. Now hug your bear good night, tuck her in next to you."

"Bluebeary is a HIM tonight. He's going to beat up any Fool-killers that come around our house tonight," Melanie said confidently.

"That's a good thing for a bear to do. Sweet dreams sister of mine."

"G'night," Melanie yawned.

Terry quietly shut the door, and thought about the name "Fool-Killer." He was a prodigy, with an IQ around 190 and near total recall, and that name DID sound familiar. Now where had he heard it?

He went to his library, being old fashioned way beyond his young age, to try to remember WHICH book he had seen that name in...

He eventually found it in THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF KILLERS AND MADMEN, found the correct page, and began reading about the Fool-killer Legacy.


	2. Chapter 2

THE LEGEND OF THE FOOLKILLER CHAPTER TWO.

Terry read the Foolkiller chapter in his battered and worn copy of THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF KILLERS AND MADMEN. Terry had dozens of hobbies, but an interest in crime, criminology and detective work was in the top five. Serial killers were common, as were serial killers that tried to create myths about themselves. But there were very few that were a part of a legacy, or who fancied themselves to be a part of tradition.

Once he finished his degrees in Robotics and Electro-biology at Empire State University, maybe he would look into being a detective. If it was good enough for Sherlock Holmes and Sir Isaac Newton, it is good enough for Terry Vance.

From THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF KILLERS AND MADMEN-

The first officially known Foolkiller was Jesse Holmes, who wrote letter s to the Milton Chronicle from 1841 to 1883, a North Carolina Newspaper distributed throughout North Carolina before, during and after The Civil War. The Fool-Killer was the alleged author of letters to the Chronicle discussing the rambles of Jesse Holmes in counties of the northern Piedmont area of the South and characters and situations he encountered along the way. Published about once a month, the letters were accompanied by a woodcut of a feisty little character in long-tailed coat and floppy hat carrying a club. The club was for the Fool-Killer's use in bashing various kinds of fools he came across in his journeys. These included overbearing parents, bullying slave patrollers, hard drinkers, faithless lovers, and a variety of others. Not infrequently, the state legislature and other institutions came in for a share of cudgeling. The flavor of a society in the process of moral decay informed the Fool-Killer's letters.

The second Foolkiller preferred an axe to a club, and left the word FOOL painted or written near bodies from 1893 to 1915, but a proper name was never found or claimed for him, her, or them. The number of victims was estimated at between 80 and 120, with the possibility of "copycat killers" in there. The killings were along the railroad lines from San Francisco to Chicago to New York, and ranged from pimps and dope peddlers to dishonest businessmen and politicians suspected of corruption. Those who exploited children in either criminal activities or who used and abused child labor were particularly targeted, with FOOL written on their decapitated heads.

During World War II the West Coast saw another Foolkiller arise, that seemed to be focused on Axis spies, saboteurs and sympathizers. He was described as "looking like Zorro, with a mask and floppy hat, but Navy Blue," by several witnesses to him leaving the scenes of his vigilante actions. As a wartime superhero, he was even more obscure than The Phantom Bullet or The Thunderer but The FBI did publicly thank him for his assistance, then attempt to arrest him after the war for shooting several con artists that were preying on returning GIs.

Ross G. Everbest was the first of the Foolkillers to be identified definitively in April of 1974.

Everbest was more of a reactionary crusader than subsequent versions of the character. - The father of the boy who would become Foolkiller was a soldier who died on the day his son was born, in the final days of a war (see comments). His mother also served in the military, as a Red Cross nurse, and she lost her life to a bomb in a subsequent war, when her son was nine years old.

Born paralyzed below the waist, Ross G. Everbest was frustrated to the point of depression that he could never become an active soldier or give his life the way his parents had. He worshipped his parents and turned his bedroom into a kind of memorial for them. He read book after book about the military, and his grandmother said he knew more about its history and traditions than most generals.

Everbest's grandmother eventually brought him to Reverend Mike's Revival Caravan in hopes that the evangelist could heal him. Everbest was originally afraid of Rev. Mike and his powerful presence, but he wanted to march, so he trembled and prayed as Mike lay his hands on him and called on the Lord's power. A moment later, Everbest was standing, and he realized then that he had found his true calling as a soldier in the service of the Almighty. He begged Mike to accept him as a disciple and vowed to become as great a preacher as him.

Believing in Mike, he never faltered or strayed from the path. Before two years had passed (and as Everbest turned 18), people were falling at Everbest's feet, calling him more than human and the "new messiah," and he knew they were right. Nonetheless, Everbest was deeply troubled by criminals, protestors, dope pushers, etc. mocking the lord and the military, which he took as signs that civilization was coming to an end. For over a decade, he wondered why he couldn't save the world and what he had done wrong. He blamed social decay on unwitting agents of the devil and developed a fanatical religious philosophy under the terms of which these "fools," must be killed by a different breed of savior, an adventuring agent of God, the Foolkiller.

While the Revival Caravan was lodged in a Louisiana hotel, Everbest decided to adopt his new costumed identity and role. He went to Mike to show him his costume and tell him he was leaving the Revival, only to find Mike drinking and partying with a woman while playing with the money they had made. Mike told Everbest he took life seriously and needed to relax and stop fighting the world. Deciding that Mike, too, had become one of the fools, Everbest strangled him to death. Still, as it was Mike who had inspired him and "given the world its redeemer," Everbest made a shrine out of him, keeping his body preserved in a glass tank filled with formaldehyde as a symbol of the route to Heaven.

This tank became the Foolkiller's central shrine when he remodeled the revival caravan's truck with computers and advanced weaponry with which to undertake his mission against fools.

With the money Mike had taken from the Caravan, Everbest bought a tractor trailer, computer, and the Ray of Purity weapon. Everbest decided that that, and his death, had atoned for Mike's sins. Neither the precise nature of the Ray of Purity gun nor the identity of its manufacturer is known.

Seventy-two fools fell before the Foolkiller, from Satanists in California to the publisher of a socialist newspaper in Ohio.

Terry set the book aside, pondering what might have been in the mind of such a madman/serial killer/superhero as Ross Everbest. He flipped ahead to the account of Everbest's execution of the Satanists in the Agua Mansa Pioneer Cemetery in San Bernardino County, California, and attempted to put himself in the shoes of this long dead, insanely dangerous individual.

TO BE CONTINUED soon as I can type it up.

Coming soon! Ross Everbest versus The Sons of Satannish! A guest appearance by Mephisto! Death, gore, explosions, a chance at redemption… Be there or be square, True Believers!

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Thanks to Snood of the Appendix to the Handbook of the Marvel Universe for his summary of Ross Everbest's career in MAN-THING. In MY universe, Snood would have worked for the publisher of THE ENCYCLOPEDIA OF KILLERS AND MADMEN, so it totally makes sense to incorporate him into Marvel continuity as in MY fan fiction.


End file.
